


Sometimes, My Horses Stand a Chance of Winning

by SympathyForTheBlinderDevil



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), Reunions, Reunited and It Feels So Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SympathyForTheBlinderDevil/pseuds/SympathyForTheBlinderDevil
Summary: This is the second part of "My Horse Won". Yeah, I know I said that it was a one shot, but I am bad at leaving well enough alone. You dont have to read "My Horse Won" to understand this, but it might help.Tommy Shelby and y/n tried to make a go of it after the Derby last year. It didn't work. When Tommy sees you drinking at the Marquis, he tries to make another move. The arrogant ass just won't give up!





	Sometimes, My Horses Stand a Chance of Winning

“Come out with us!” the girl at the next desk begged. Your best friend wanted to go out after work to have a few drinks, but you begged off, citing a nasty cold. The only thing that sounded appealing to you was a hot cup of tea and some cinnamon rock candies to soothe your throat.

“Can’t do it. I have to be back in the morning to help with inventory, and I am sick. I need a good night’s sleep, not a night on a town.” 

“Who said anything about a night on the town? Just a drink or two, come on! It’s no fun without you.” 

“I’m not going to the Garrison,” you mumbled, rolling your itchy eyes and sniffling.

“We can go to the Marquis.”

Why had you let her talk you into this? The short answer was that she was a good friend, and you knew she was not comfortable going out alone. So you sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, sucking on cinnamon candies, and trying to find a dry spot on your handkerchief with which to wipe your nose. You looked down the bar at your friend. She had cozied up to a lanky guy in a brown tweed suit. He had dimples when he smiled, and she was clearly smitten. Occasionally she would glance in your direction and wiggle her eyebrows, making you chuckle. You stared down into your glass, wishing that you had a little romance in your life, but you weren’t likely to find any guys who would be interested in contracting a respiratory infection. 

Your friend seemed to be in good hands, so you decided that you would leave after you finished your drink. Just then, the man who was standing with your friend moved to reveal a hat lying on the bar beside him. A peaked cap with razors sewn in.

“Shit,” you whispered, utterly disgusted. If one peaky boy was there, could others be far behind? The thought had scarcely formed in your mind before you spotted him. Tommy Shelby. You quickly turned your back and started to pull your coat on, but it was too late. You could sense the patrons parting like the Red Sea as Tommy moved in your direction. 

The last time you saw Tommy in a bar, you ended up going home with him. You had been drinking, and you fell into the abyss of his charm. You’d had a crush on him ever since you could remember, and had even shared a snog or two when you were younger, so you weren’t too hard to pull. He talked a good game and you went for it: hook, line, and sinker. He wanted you to stay with him, so you did. There were a few wild nights when he would come home splattered in someone else’s blood, ice behind his eyes and fire in his veins- those were the nights when he would screw you against a wall, leaving you sweaty, breathless, and willing to believe anything he told you. The next morning you would wake up to his slow, sleepy kisses and make love in his tangled sheets. You were intoxicated by him for a couple of weeks, but it didn’t take long for you to find out that Tommy’s heart would only ever belong to his “business”. You couldn’t deal with being stood up and waiting up all hours of the night for him, never knowing where he was, who he was with, or if he was dead or alive. After pacing the floors all night you would angrily explode, only to be told not to ask any questions, so you ended it. As you were leaving he actually told you that he had never promised you anything.

You did not want to deal with Tommy’s crap. Maybe he would just say hello and let you go in peace. Your head ached, your throat was raw, and you looked like death warmed over; It was just your luck to run into him. The wheel of the universe always seemed to roll over you and mash you flat where Tommy was concerned. 

He came to stand beside you and you refused to look at him. He stared at you in the bar mirror, willing you to raise your eyes. You wouldn’t. He ordered two whiskeys. When the barman brought them, Tommy slid one in front of you. By this time the silent tension between the two of you had your blood boiling. You pushed yourself off of your stool and turned for the door. 

“y/n,” he finally spoke. 

His voice rumbled through your body like thunder. Barely a whisper, it was still powerful enough to make you stop walking. You stood with your back to him, holding your breath and silently cursing the reflex that made you stop. 

“Sit down.”

Like Pavlov’s dog, you predictably responded when Tommy rang his bell. You sat back down, but you still would not look at him. If he wanted your company, you would make it as awkward as possible for him. In your periphery, you could see him looking you up and down. How dare he. With every second that passed, you became more furious.

He took his silver cigarette case out of his pocket, placed one between his lips, and struck a match. You could smell the acrid match head, and you watched out of the corner of your eye while he lit the end of his smoke and pursed his lips to deeply draw on the tobacco. A little shiver crept up your spine at the sight even though the voice in your head called him an arrogant bastard.

“You can’t leave without finishing your drink,” he murmured. He sat with his head slightly cocked, his eyes still traveling up and down your body.

“Fuck you.” You tried your best to keep the emotion out of your voice, but it came out as a low snarl.

Tommy smirked, “I only want to talk.”

“It’s never just a talk with you, Tommy. Not when I was sixteen. Not last year on Derby Day. It’s always, ‘Have another drink, y/n. I can’t get you off of my mind y/n. I can’t leave here without you y/n.’ Well, I’m fed up with your bullshit.” 

You killed the whiskey in one go, and finally turned to look at him. His mask of cold detachment was stripped away. It took a few beats for him to respond, “y/n, are you alright?”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Tommy? I’m not going to crumble at your feet so there must be something wrong with me?” You slid off of the barstool and began walking toward the door when the room began to spin and your knees turned to jelly. Apparently, Tommy’s question was out of genuine concern for your health. You went pale and nearly lost consciousness.

 

***

 

Tommy bundled you into his car and took you home with him. You weakly protested at first, but then fell asleep, curled up under his coat like a cat. When you reached Watery Lane, he carried you up the stairs to his room. You became cognizant of what was happening when he laid you on his bed. Fighting against his hands and struggling to stand, you shouted between coughs, “Oh no you don’t. Get me out of your room. Put me in Ada’s or something.”

Tommy laughed, “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Look, I’ll go downstairs. I won’t even sleep in here, I promise.” 

“I don’t trust you, you …you…ass.” You gave him the evil eye as you took increasingly ragged breaths.

He winced and took a step toward you. His cool hand rested on your forehead and he whistled. “You have a high fever y/n. How long have you felt this way?”

You sighed, “About a week, but it’s gotten worse tonight. I should’ve gone home instead of going out,” you threw a disgusted look Tommy’s way, “would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

“I think you may be getting pneumonia. I’ll stay here with you and keep an eye on you tonight.”

Your bottom lip started to quiver, and you could feel hot tears spring to your eyes. “No! I’ll be fine. Just get me a car home.” You sat up in bed, but unable to muster the strength to stand, sank back down. 

Tommy went to get a cold towel, and you lay in his bed cursing fate. You began to shiver. You pulled Tommy’s sheet and the blanket over your head and were surrounded by his musky scent, breathing deeply and willing your tears to stop. When he returned, he gave you a bottle of vile syrup to take and put the cool towel on your head. You knew it was necessary, but your chills were so intense that your whole body ached. You got tears in your eyes again and looked up to see Tommy standing by, watching you, his face painted with worry. You pouted at him but begrudgingly patted the bed beside you. 

Tommy didn’t need to be told twice. He snuggled up to your back and wrapped his arms around you. The nasty potion he gave you began to work, and your chills started to taper off. Unfortunately, your inhibitions became significantly lower too, and you began to run your mouth.

“You know what, Tommy? You think that you can come ‘round, an’ find me drinkin’ in a bar, mindin’ my own business, an’ charm my pants off whenever you want. But you’re fucking wrong.”

Tommy stifled a smile against your back, “I don’t think that. Now, get some rest, love.”

“Love?” you scoffed. “You don’t know the meaning of the word. I trusted you, Tom. I really believed that you wanted me. I fell for all your lies last Derby Day. Just another one of your stupid little fools. I can’t believe I fell for your lies. You’re an asshole. You hear me, Tommy? An a-s-s-h-o-o-,” you trailed off for a moment, blotto on the codeine and aspirin mixture that Tommy gave you, “h-o-l-e. Arshole.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes closed. He knew that you had a point. He wanted to make things work with you last year, but he had a lot going on with the Lee Boys, Sabini, and local cops breathing down his neck. It was just bad timing. He had a hard time committing to relationships anyway, and he thought that you would be the type to understand. He was mistaken. It killed him to see your tear-streaked face and hear your strained voice demanding an explanation that he couldn’t give, but he couldn’t drop all of the shady business that he was involved in. There was too much money involved and too many lives were hanging in the balance.

It wasn’t as if he could quit you altogether, though. He discreetly kept tabs on who you dated, where you went, and how your work at the BSA progressed. There were many days that he watched from afar as you shopped or had lunch in town, and there were many evenings that he stood outside your house watching the lights go out as you turned in for the night. He wasn’t a saint; he saw many other women during the past year, but as he lay down to sleep at night, his mind always returned to you. He breathed in the scent of your hair and tried to work his courage up. He knew that this was his chance to make amends and try to get you to be his.

“I was wrong to lead you to believe that I could offer you what you needed. It was selfish of me. I was drunk and I wanted you so badly that I made a poor decision. I am sorry, y/n. But please know, no one else can take your place. I longed for us to work, but there are things about my life that cannot change.” He took a deep breath and continued. “But, still, when I close my eyes at night, I see you.” He squeezed you and kissed your neck. “I’m shit at relationships. I can’t be what you want me to be, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting you. If you could only agree to accept what I can offer, little as it may be, we could make quite a team, eh? Sometimes, my horses stand a chance of winning. What do you say?”

Tommy felt like he had said too much. As a man of few words, the things that he just told you seemed like a Shakespearian soliloquy to him. He held his breath as he waited for your response to all that he had confessed. The silent seconds ticked on, and he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, hoping that his irresistible touch and charm would win you over in the end. His mind was plagued with doubts as the minutes passed without an answer. He was sure that he was unable to endure another second of waiting when he heard you snore. 

He had just confessed his true feelings, which was no mean feat, to a sleeping y/n. The codeine knocked you out before he had begun to speak. Maybe he would have the balls to tell you again tomorrow, and maybe he wouldn’t. Tommy turned the light off, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and settled in for a peaceful night’s rest with you in his arms.


End file.
